Page 14 of Rainse
"Yes, they did. Until recently, we thought they'd lived only near the country of Scotland, but my brother and his mate found evidence that they also lived here, in this area. And they had unions with the locals. With humans. And those unions resulted in children."
The wonder in his voice was evident. I wasn't quite sure what to think about it all, if I could believe this fairy tale, but to him, it meant hope.
"Eventually, the stranded finfolk were rescued," he continued. "And their story was forgotten. I don't know if it was through the passage of time or orchestrated on purpose, but for a long time, nobody knew about your planet and the potential it bears. Until Fionn found the records. An acquaintance of ours, Kelon, organised a ship. That is how we came to be here."
"And were you successful? In finding wives?"
I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer. I didn't want him to tell me that he was married with three adorable finman-human children. Even though that should have made me happy for him. I'd seen the pain on his face when he'd spoken of the moment he'd been told that he'd always be alone. It must have been awful. I was single out of choice, not because some higher authority had forbidden me to find a partner. That was something very different.
"My clutch-brothers have mates. Fionn was the first. He now lives with Elise, while Cerban and Maelis are absolutely besotted with each other."
"Are you jealous?" I blurted before I could stop myself. The edge in his voice had spoken of envy and sadness.
He turned to me, his face illuminated by the fire, his eyes glowing otherworldly.
"Yes, I am. I am ashamed to admit it, but it would not be honourable to lie about that. I wish with all my heart that I had what they have. It is the reason we came to this planet, after all. Just like all the other unmated males, my details have been added to a database. As soon as a match is found, I will be notified. But so far, there have been no news. I wait every sunpass. Every click. Until now... silence. But... No."
"What were you going to say?"
"It is getting late. You should get some sleep. It will help your recovery. We shall talk more tomorrow."
I was about to protest, but a yawn rose in my throat, belying the argument I'd already sketched out in my head. Maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow. I needed my full strength to read between his lines and figure out what was really going on.
I stared at him across the flames, at the alienness in his features. What had he called the growths on his shoulders, arms and hips? Greenskin. I realised it wasn’t skin at all but something alive, growing from him in long, thin fronds that caught every flicker of light. They reminded me of the kelp forests I’d studied during my honours degree—sensitive to motion, to water flow, to sound. They moved when the air changed, as though tasting it.
“Can you move them? Your greenskin?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked down at the nearest strand where it coiled against his ribs. “No. I don’t have that sort of control over it. But it reacts, listens, senses. It tells me when the currents change, when danger swims close.”
“Like a sensory organ.” My scientific brain was already cataloguing possibilities, theories, comparisons to fish lateral lines.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Exactly that.”
Curiosity overrode caution. I reached out, my hand shaking only a little, and brushed my fingertips against one of the kelp fronds near his shoulder. It was soft and cool, supple as seaweed, pulsing faintly beneath my touch as if it recognised me.
Rainse went utterly still. “It listens to you too,” he said, voice quiet and unreadable.
I snatched my hand back, half in alarm, half in wonder. “Sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“You are curious. That is good.” He turned back to the fire, feeding another stick into the flames. “Rest now. Tomorrow the sea may calm. Then we will see what the tide allows.”
It wasn’t a promise, but it wasn’t a refusal either. My ribs throbbed with every breath, making argument impossible. I lay back on the sand, the warmth of the fire against my side, the sound of waves whispering around us.
I told myself I’d question everything properly in the morning. For now, I pulled the cloak tighter around my body and let the crackle of fire and the pulse of the ocean lull me toward uneasy sleep.
7
Rainse
She was still sleeping when I woke at the first light of dawn. Earth had the best sunrises. On Finfolkaheem, they were milky and washed out, while here the colours were bright and beautiful. I sat in the sand next to the burned out fire and watched the sun rise while listening to the soft sound of Verity's breathing.
She stirred in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The sound went through me like a current. My greenskin twitched along my shoulders and ribs, reading the rhythm of her breath, mapping it against the pulse of the sea. The bond hummed quietly, a reminder that she was mine, even if she didn’t know it yet.
I told myself it was enough just to watch her. To make sure she was safe. To breathe in a world where she existed.
When I couldn’t stand the stillness any longer, I rose and walked down to the water. The surf curled around my feet, warm from the sun. Small silver fish darted through the shallows, unbothered by my presence. I caught two in quick succession and laid them on a flat rock to clean later.
Every movement felt purposeful. Controlled. Because if I stopped moving, I’d start thinking—about the brothers I’d left behind, the lies I’d built, the future that could crumble with one human word.
